A/N- Thank you to my two reviewers! I just wanted to point out that in the middle of this chapter Rose ages to sixteen and the setting changes, so it might behoove some people to read the heading of the letter to make it less confusing. Enjoy!
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Part ii
"Oh, Rose, you know that orange is a morbid color," said my mother, referring to the scarf that I had tied around my neck. "Honestly, must your servants dress you for everything?"
I said nothing, almost a month after Father's death and we were feasting with the Hockley's. When my mother realized that Nathan Hockley was Caledon's father (a major steel tycoon who made thousands upon thousands a year) she absolutely begged him to come over and meet the grateful family who is forever in debt to his services. I was sort of neutral on the topic, seeing as how father is more important to me than the Hockley's.
I kept the scarf on in defiance, however; and Mother didn't protest after she realized that it was a lost battle.
"Rose, are you ready?" she asked. I sighed.
"Yes, Mother, I am—I refuse to comprehend why you are fussing so--" but I was quickly hushed by her as we heard the chime of the doorbell ring.
"It's them," she whispered softly. Well, who else would it be? Mother was irritating me to no end lately; being pushed so close to the edge again strained our not-so-wonderful Mother/Daughter relationship even further.
"May I take your hats, sirs?" Delilah asked. I heard them shuffle about in the foyer, waiting for their hostesses to come down. My mother went first, of course, prancing down the long flight of stairs overdramatically. I followed a minute or so after; I didn't want to seem impressionable.
"So sorry for your loss, truly, we are," said the older man who I only assumed was Nathan Hockley. He shook my mother's hand, and then he came to me, sympathy in his eyes; and something else that I couldn't put my finger on.
"Hello, you must be Rose. I'm Caledon Hockley, you may call me Cal," I looked up into the most gorgeous pair of eyes that I had ever seen—up until that point at least. I took the hand that he held out for me and shook it perhaps a little too long. Then I realized that the polite thing would be to respond to him.
"Okay, Cal, you may call me Rose," I said. But as soon as my words were uttered I kicked myself. He already called me Rose, idiot!
"Well, Rose, I am terribly sorry about your father. Even in his last moments he went down like a gentleman; I established some real respect for that man," he stated smoothly.
"Thank you," I said modestly. While Mother started to usher the two men into the dining room, I took a few moments to thoroughly observe them. They looked very much alike-not quite short, but I've seen taller. They both had those same enticing eyes, although it was far more attractive on the younger Hockley, who seemed to be everything his father is and more. Charming, handsome, certainly, quite handsome. He also had a sort of cool disposition, which impressed me far more than the buckets of money that impressed Mother.
We were situated in the table as follows: Each Hockley on one end of the table in the fancier chairs, and then Mother and I in the remaining middle seats. I was glad that I didn't have the pressure of sitting next to someone directly.
Appetizers and drinks were promptly brought out, of course—wine for the elders and some fancy water for me. I couldn't wait until I was of the age to have full glasses of wine; right now Mother only allowed me tiny sips.
"I don't water my daughter getting intoxicated!" she exclaimed every time I mentioned it. I would just roll my eyes and go back to sipping my water.
"Well, Ruth, may I call you Ruth?" the elder Hockley asked, bringing me back from my thoughts. Mother twittered a silly laugh playfully.
"But of course you can, Mr. Hockley!" she said.
"Okay, Ruth, but I insist that you call me Nathan, it seems like a business discussion when you refer to Hockley, and business this most certainly is not!"
"It's pleasure, of course," said Cal, smiling at me kindly. I smiled back.
"So, Cal, where did you attend school when you were of age?" Mother asked. Quite the appropriate question; she does have a way with those.
"Oh, well I attended regular grammar school here in the states, near Philadelphia," he responded.
"Is that where you grew up?" Mother questioned. His expression changed to that of a pained one for a second and then it resumed its welcoming stance.
"No. I was born there, but Father sent me to France to live with an old aunt while my mother was ill until I was five. Then I returned here and attended school until I was about your age, Rose. After that, it was off to another special school in England," he explained.
"Oh, and which one did you go to, Cal? I was looking for a good finishing school for Rose, might you have any suggestions?" I exhaled noisily and Mother ignored my obvious annoyance at the question.
"Well, ma'am, I would have to say…" and so it continued until appetizers were over. The only time that I actually paid the slightest attention is when Cal was speaking. He was such a smart and educated person. His father was as well, of course, but not nearly as charismatic.
"Something smells enticing…" teased the elder guest. Sure enough, alluring whiffs were being drifted from the kitchen and into the room.
"A special house favorite!" Mother said with pride.
Flambéed salmon, of course, with basil indulged in a steamy pepper sauce—Father's favorite dish. How dare the chef cook something that brought back so many painful memories!
"Quite excellent, Ruth, give my appreciations to the cook!" Nathan exclaimed. Mother gave a polite smile.
"I'll be sure and tell her you said so."
"It was Father's favorite food," I muttered softly. Everyone looked at me.
"I'm sorry, Rose, I know how hard this must be for you," Cal started, "I lost my mother when I was seven. The ache never does quite go away." After he uttered that statement, I looked at him with completely different eyes. Such a perfect man, yet he went through all the trouble that I, myself am going through now? That clinched it; Cal was officially my new role model.
Dinner went smoothly of course, but unfortunately I couldn't remember a thing. All I remember was Cal's voice and strong interjections of opinion, mixed with his understanding stance and expression…
After that night, everything turned BC for me. Before Cal.
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Gilda Martin's Finishing School, England
March 10th, 1911
Dear Mother,
School is quite fine; my teachers are splendid. I have made many friends, a few being Stacey Richmond and Patricia Cobb, whose parents we used to dine with. You remember Caledon Hockley, of course? How could you forget? Well, I ran into him today in the lobby of my school! I was quite shocked to see him so unexpected like that, and I nearly bowled into him. I introduced myself and he remembered me as well; we had an interesting conversation. I won't go into all the details, as he is picking me up in five minutes. I wanted to inform you of my going-ons, and I hope that you are in good health.
Your daughter,
Rose
I had to be the ever-dutiful sixteen-year-old daughter and write home to my mother constantly. It was expected, no questions asked. Anyway, as my letter dictated, I ran into Cal today. It was ever the surprise, and we immediately struck up a conversation. He was here on account that the headmaster is a friend of his father's.
I heard a knock on the door. That must be him! I quickly scurried to open the door—but not too fast, like Mother always instructed. Always keep them waiting for a little while to show that they are not your top priority. Never want to look too eager! I opened the door slowly and demurely.
"Hello, Mr. Hockley," I said. He looked at me kindly and took my arm.
"Please, Rose, keep calling me Cal; just because I am your new suitor doesn't mean that you should address me differently!" Wow. He wasted no time establishing how he stood in the system of things. Steady male companion already?
"So, Cal, where might we be going?" I asked.
"Well, I thought that a stroll in the park around the block might fit the requirements," he said.
"Well, I agree wholeheartedly, but I remind you that I absolutely must be back by eight. Miss Martin's orders." He chuckled.
"I think that can be arranged," he said, and off we went. William's Park was a very popular place for the local schoolchildren such as myself to lounge around in a quiet atmosphere. There was a moment of silence between us.
But I took a deep breath; I needed to ask something that was on my mind.
"Cal? When you were over for dinner, I forgot to ask you. What were Father's last words?" My companion looked startled for a moment, but quickly regained composure.
"Well, if my memory serves me…he said…I don't know how much sense this will make, because it was only moments before he passed, but he said something about kissing his Little Irish Belle goodnight…"
I sucked in my breath. That was I! I felt tears spring to my eyes, but I wouldn't let myself cry in front of Caledon Hockley.
"It was you, wasn't it?" he asked softly, completely reading my mind. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. "You were his Irish Belle?"
"I was," I almost whispered. But Cal just took me in his arms and hugged me—right there in the middle of the sidewalk. He kissed the top of my head calmly. I hastily realized that I should change the subject from painful memories to something more cheerful. I blinked away my tears and regained control.
So for the next hour or two, we discussed idle topics and the latest trends and compared and contrasted everything. He was so intelligent; striking up a conversation was such fun. But I knew that the evening had to end somehow, and he walked me back to my room.
"Goodnight my Little Irish Belle," he murmured, and brought my hand up to his lips and kissed it.
"Goodnight," I said, closing the door. I retired soon after, looking forward to tomorrow's encounter with Cal.
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Thank you for reading! What did you think of Part Two?
